In recognition of the seasonal, celebratory festivities collaborated with suggestive advertisements, argumentative parents and enough consumable goods to sustain a small European country, I felt compelled, Nay! Obligated to dutifully wish you all an affluent Christmas exempt from dubiously received gifts you’d request a receipt for or the traditional holiday controversy. Because let’s be honest the pressures to provide reflective interval for contemporary tidings of good will, liberated from solemnity of the year is one of metric subtlety, often faltering under the ambitious glare of expectation. There’s a fraudulent perception of Christmas that families appear determined to emulate with concise accuracy; the elegantly displayed turkey roasted with precision,and marinaded with decorative rashers of bacon that accentuate birds glowing exterior. With a beautifully decorated tree adorned with a litany of gifts that circumnavigate around the tree with reticulated finesse. And the entire family gathering together, enveloping one another with affectionate embrace. The contrasting reality however is certainly more of an interlude of rediscovery.
Heeding your Grandmothers scrutinising and probing enquiries that largely regard my nutritional consumption and whether I still play those innocuous “Television games”, patiently awaiting her appraisals or the murmured derision for my continued investment in gaming. Experiencing the forced sedation of my senses through the mandatory Christmas programming. Admonishing my Uncle for his negligent temerity for devouring the last of the miniature confectionery. Projecting an image of conservative docility when the odious aroma of boiled vegetation that secretes from the scalding containers in the kitchen, altering the scent of the rustic ambiance. Tolerating your families emphatic, cumulative gastric secretions with the acrid aroma of various unspecified substances, the serene fluency of my nieces whimsical imaginings that sedately represent her affluent innocence as well as my latent immunity to my grandfathers cranial, fracturing anecdotes solicited with precise specificity, but absent of coherent narrative or relevance.
My adulating cynicism aside, the thrusting luminance of Christmas is–despite the remedial influence of alcohol, the necessary fortitude for Yule tide gluttony and a bloated abdomen–the conjoined connectivity and the commemorative stability of our respective family unit. Because as much as I reprimand the visitation of my combined kin, I wouldn’t trade them for any number of magic beans (because they don’t exist). So irrespective of your religious admissions or agnostic orientation, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy new games console (I have my fingers crossed for you)! Here’s to the interactive digitalized entertainment of 2014! *Raises figurative glass*